Safe and Sound
by NobleCaliber
Summary: How could they even ask him to put some civilian's life above that of his partner? How could that be expected of him? He wasn't about to let her die, terrified and alone, running down leads they didn't have on a civilian he didn't care about.


A/N: I watched _Mr. Yin Presents _yesterday and Lassiter's line _'I'll be going to get my partner now'_ just kind of popped out at me.

I dunno if it'll seem like it, but this isn't a Lassiet fic. I suppose if you wanted, you could take it as that. But that's not really how I intended to write it. But if you want, you could pretend. Either way.

/|\

Civilians first?

How could he be expected to leave his _partner _to die in favor of saving some civilian?

Okay, so he'd met Abigail a few times. He knew that she was dating Spencer. He knew he'd brought her to a crime scene. He knew she went somewhere to do some sort of mercenary work. He knew she flew in to visit him today.

Most of all, he knew that this girl was of little importance to him on a good day and she defiantly didn't hold _priority _over Juliet any day, let alone today. Especially not today.

And he'd be damned if he let her fall to her death in favor of saving some _Abigail Lytar_.

How could Chief even _ask _him to save a damn civilian instead of his partner?

Civilians. It was his job to protect them, sure. It was also his job- his responsibility- to watch his partner's back. It was in his job description to keep the general public from harm. It didn't have to be in the fine print to have her six.

It's the unspoken rule. You don't endanger your partner's life. You save it. You don't leave your partner hanging (Weather literally or figuratively). If your partner's life hangs in the balance, you throw yours in too, if only so that they know they're not alone. You stand between her and the gun, you threaten to shoot her stalker ex-boyfriend when she calls you in the middle of the night because he won't leave.

So why the _hell _could they even think, for even a split second, that he'd do so much as consider running down a lead they didn't have on a civilian when he's practically been handed a map to saving Juliet.

Juliet. At first, he'd pegged her as just another kid who wanted to play cop for a while. But when he worked with her, he realized that wasn't her.

She called him out on his BS. She was a good investigator. She might be a little soft, but she was _good. _The closest thing to a daughter Victoria had never let him have. She looked up to him. She wanted his approval.

Right now, she _needs _him. He _has _to save her. He will not standby and let yet another person he held dear be ripped away. Not this time and not Juliet.

She was lively. She was happy. She was optimistic, intuitive. Bright eyed and bushy tailed- how she didn't annoy him with it, he'd never know.

So he saves her. What possible excuse could he have? His partner's _life_ on the line. There isn't a force in hell that could keep him from saving her.

He's her partner, damn it. He may put on the _I don't give a rat's ass_ façade, because most of the time, he doesn't. But for her? He does. He cares about her. He wants her to be safe. Right now, he's responsible for that safety.

He ignores and defies the speed limit, without even realizing it. He never does that. His siren blares as he rushes to her aid, he honks and swears at the few cars who dare to get in his way. What's wrong with these people? Can't they see? He has a life to save! _Juliet's_ life.

Seeing her there, helpless, thinking she's to die alone, makes him angry. He has to consciously push that aside for now, he has to get her on stable ground first.

He reaches out for the wire, but its electrified. He locks his jaw in malice and Gus sprints to the hand of the clock, holding it back for all its worth. His mind races for a minute, but he doesn't have time for that.

He sprints inside the mechanisms. He's hesitation is only momentary, and he kicks himself for it. He yanks his gun from its holster, looking for which gear to slam it in. He only has one shot at this.

If he uses it to lock up the wrong pieces of machinery, he'll have no choice but to take his chances with catching that damn chair and hauling her over the railing. Gus won't be much help there, despite his heartfelt efforts.

To his relief, the clock's lights fade and the overgrown deathtrap whines to a halt. He allows himself a long breath, silently thanking every supernatural force that may or may not exist.

Next thing he knows, he's shooing off a paramedic. She keeps insisting she's fine, he won't stop telling her she doesn't have to be. All the sudden, she's crying. Damn, he's bad at this. She blindly reaches out for him, and he pulls her in.

It doesn't matter that he hasn't got the slightest idea how to do this. He doesn't know how to be supportive or comforting. He doesn't like physical contact 98% of the time.

It doesn't matter because he saved her. He may be a step outside of his comfort zone with her in his arms, crying. But its also relieving. Dead bodies can't cry. Hell, people unconscious in _critical condition_ don't cry. But she can cry, because she's alive and kicking. She can cry because by some miracle, he didn't screw this up.

He couldn't afford to, not this time.


End file.
